Beaches
by Laughable Breakdowns
Summary: "When Castiel had told Dean that he had never been to the ocean, let alone been swimming in general, Dean simply stared. Everyone had been swimming. Thirteen year olds had been swimming. And yet a bajillion year old angel, who could literally do anything he wanted, had never been swimming...Well, that was just a crying shame." This is Destiel if you've got on your slash goggles.


**Beaches**

**A/N: Sorry if this is choppy! I began it in June and only just now got around to completing it. **

When Castiel had told Dean that he had never been to the ocean, let alone been swimming in general, Dean simply stared. Everyone had been swimming. _Thirteen_ year olds had been swimming. And yet a bajillion year old angel, who could literally do anything he wanted, had never been swimming.

Well, that was just a crying shame.

So Dean decided to take it upon himself to bring Castiel to the beach. It was just a little one beside the motel him and Sammy were staying at, with shitloads of nasty wood and seaweed and things of the sort washed up onto the beige sand, but it was the best that Dean had. It wasn't like he could pull a beach out of his ass or something. Dean would've preferred a nicer beach for Cas to lose his beach-virginity at—but he figured that Castiel wouldn't know the difference between a good beach and a bad beach anyway.

Castiel didn't have a bathing suit, obviously, so Dean took the liberty of lending him one of his own. It was old and a tad ratty, but it would have to do.

"Dean," Castiel said simply, staring at Dean when he handed him the bathing suit as though he had sprouted another head, "I must change my clothing to go to the beach?"

Dean rolled his eyes, "Of course. You can't swim in a trench-coat, man. You're gonna be getting wet. Water, remember?"

Castiel tilted his head and squinted at Dean, causing him to roll his eyes again. "I can simply dry myself off when I am done."

"No, Cas. Clothes are gonna weigh you down. People wear bathing suits for a reason. Trust me on this one, okay? Now go into the bathroom and change. I'll be right out here."

Castiel sighed and reluctantly walked into the bathroom to change.

A few minutes later, Dean could hear Castiel calling to him from the bathroom. Dean got up and walked over to the door, wondering what the hell could be wrong now.

"What is it, Cas?" He shouted through the door, "Ya fall in?"

"No…" came the reply, "But, it appears that I am stuck."

Dean rested his head against the cool wood of the bathroom door and sighed. "Cas, how the hell did you manage to get stuck? It's a bathing suit."

"I just am."

Dean bit his lip to stop himself from saying something very rude and rubbed his temples. "Can I come in, then? As long as you're not buck naked or some crap."

The door opened and there was Castiel, with an arm sticking out of the place where a leg was supposed to go, his pants still on, and his head trying to fit through the other leg hole.

"Cas…" Dean began slowly, "What are you doing?"

Castiel swung his body so that he was able to look at Dean past the fabric of the bathing suit that was covering all but his eyes and the top of his head. "I am putting on the bathing suit. Is this not the customary way to put on clothing?"

Dean decided that he wouldn't answer that, and proceeded to help Castiel put on his bathing suit properly, making sure he didn't see anything that would most likely scar him for eternity.

When Dean and Cas finally made it to the beach, it was well into the afternoon and the sun had long since heated up the ground. Dean, who forgot to bring his shoes, hopped from foot to foot while trying to avoid the smoldering sand. Castiel, on the other hand was wearing his dress shoes, looking quite ridiculous (and yet slightly attractive, although Dean tried to quiet those thoughts as quickly as possible).

Dean scurried towards the wet area of the sand, sighing in relief when the feeling of his feet being skinned alive finally stopped. Then he turned towards Cas.

"So. Whaddaya wanna do? We could…I dunno, make a sand castle or something."

Cas just stared at him. "What is a sand castle?"

Dean blinked. "Dude. You've been around HOW long? Honestly, man. C'mere and we'll make one – you've gotta come here though, no way am I standing on that hot ass sand."

Castiel complied, shuffling onto the wet sand with his business-man-shoes still on. His feet slowly sunk into the sludge, until only his ankles and the tops of his shoes were visible. Dean rolled his eyes. Cas was such a child.

"Take your shoes off, stay a while." He plopped down on the sand, digging his toes into the comfortable wetness and sighing. "Now sit down, I'm gonna show you the right way to build a sand castle."

Castiel slowly sat down on the sand, making a face when he felt the grains on the back of his thighs. "This is quite unpleasant. Must we sit on it?"

Dean huffed and began to dig a hole in the sand, pulling out the slimy wet sand. Every few seconds he was forced to pull out a chunk of seaweed, looking at it with distaste before flicking it away. "Of course you have to sit on it. That's the frickin' point, dude."

He began to pile the sand up, creating a mountain of massive proportions while Castiel looked on, seemingly transfixed. Once the base was of considerable height, Dean started to make the pillars. While Dean did that, Castiel poked at the sand castle (quite counterproductively, mind you), transfixed by its texture.

Slowly but surely the tide began to come in and the sun began to go down. Dean made a frustrated noise when the ocean waves began pulling at him and Cas' sand castle. He looked over at Cas to ask if maybe he could use his angel mojo to stall the waves for a few minutes, but stopped when he saw that the angel had long since stopped paying attention. Instead, he was lying propped up on his elbows with his legs sticking out straight, eyes closed, letting the water rush up over his feet.

Dean looked at him for a second before speaking. "You like the water?"

Castiel turned his head to look at him, and Dean noticed that he had a slight burn on his nose. He was officially an idiot for not bringing any sunscreen. "Yes." Castiel looked at the ocean again. "I have often thought that if I hadn't been made an angel, I would have loved to have been made a fish."

Dean lay next to his friend, sand castle forgotten, and looked out at the ocean. "Do you wanna go swimming?"

Castiel sat up. "Could we?" He looked like a puppy that just learnt how to fetch.

Dean smirked, "Of course, man. If you've never been swimming, get ready for the time of your life." He hopped up and waded into the water, shivering when the cool waves reached up to his thighs. Castiel got up and followed, slightly more tentative.

It didn't take long for Castiel to take to the water…well, like a fish. Apparently angels had some sort of inborn talent for swimming. Castiel was just showing off his newly-found ability to do hand-stands underwater when Dean noticed that the waves were getting rough and that it was very, very frickin' dark.

"Hey, Cas, I think we should go. My hands are all wrinkly and I'm getting a massive craving for a double-bacon-cheeseburger."

Castiel looked at him, crestfallen. "Must we go so soon? I was just about to perfect my hand-stand."

Dean snickered. "Sorry, man, maybe next time. They looked pretty perfect to me, anyway."

When they got to the motel room, Dean hit the shower first after Cas explained to him that he could just angel-mojo the sand and nasty salt water off of him (maybe not in those exact words). While washing the sand out of his hair, Dean came to the realization that he had never seen Cas as close to being happy as he was when he was screwing around in the water. Rubbing shampoo out of his eyes, he allowed himself a small smile.

They would have to do that again some day.


End file.
